


Primadonna Boys

by JadedButler



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Drama & Romance, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, First Meetings, M/M, Modeling, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Sexual Content, Slut Shaming, Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, future chapters will include (not limited to)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedButler/pseuds/JadedButler
Summary: This Just In: Local Singer Accidentally Dumps an Entire Cup of Coffee Onto A Model In Broad Daylight.Could this be the messy start to a messy first love? More at 11.Aspiring Singer Naruto x Model Sasuke. Adult AU, "Modern" AU.
Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	1. A Shirt for a Shirt (Makes the Whole World Pine)

**Author's Note:**

> recently got into naruto/shippuden and I couldn't get this au out of my head. I hope you enjoy the result of my persistent brainworms ^_^
> 
> I'm new to this fandom, so i don't know fic etiquette. Please pretend like Naruto says "dattebayo" at the end of every sentence, i didn't have the strength to do it myself :(
> 
> I'll update tags as I go along and include additional warnings in the beginning notes, but just a heads up that this badboy is going to show some of the darker aspects to the modelling industry, and might get a little dramatic at times. Might get a little spicy too.
> 
> I have quite a bit written/plotted out already, so with any luck, updates won't be too scanty. 
> 
> A little more in depth summary of this gay little story:  
> \- Naruto: singer (rock, etc.) that mostly hits up local venues, but is slowly building up a fanbase. Also works part time at a venue/bar owned by Kaks.
> 
> \- Sasuke: sullen beauty queen, exclusive model + muse to Orochimaru. Goes through some toxic shit. you know how it goes
> 
> i honestly don't know if anyone reads these, but if you do i wish you a very pleasant evening--

The incessant buzzing of Uchiha Sasuke’s cellphone rouses him from his stress dream and into consciousness, which is arguably worse. 

He doesn’t need to check the call display to know who’s trying to reach him at this  _ godless  _ hour of the morning. Motivated by spite, Sasuke lies very still and makes no move to answer the call or even hang up. Just glares at his phone with concentrated loathing. 

The young Uchiha has been known to bury alarm clocks in the past, but fortunately this call rings out before his phone meets a similar fate.

Sasuke tries to close his eyes again, but the damage is already done. No way he can go back to sleep after that rude awakening.  _ Tch _ . As if his low blood pressure doesn’t already plunge him into a foul morning mood every day. 

With a bitter sigh, Sasuke forces himself to sit up, crawling out of his needlessly large mattress. He leaves the dark sheets in a crumpled mess as he gets up, padding barefoot across the floor of his wide, barren room.

Heavy black curtains hang over the windows, shutting out the sunrise well enough to rival the ambiance of an underground bunker. Not the ideal set-up for Sasuke’s mental health, but he “couldn’t give less of a fuck” about that. So he says.

Slowly, slowly, Sasuke saunters his way to the bathroom. Naked, save for his tight-fitting boxer briefs, which he also slips off and dumps unceremoniously on the floor before stepping into the shower. Spends the next ten minutes dissociating, letting unpleasant memories wash away with the tepid water.

Can’t go too hot or it’ll dry out his skin…

Afterwards, he half-heartedly towels himself off. Throws on a light, silky house robe, fastens it loosely around his waist. The fabric is black, with a subtle violet sheen and a white serpent pattern near the hems. 

Like everything else he wears, it was picked out for him specially by Orochimaru--

Sasuke’s eye twitches as he’s reminded of the wake up call from earlier.  _ Ah shit _ . Speak of the devil…

Reluctantly, he checks his phone again: now up to eight missed calls. Sasuke grimaces; number nine is coming in like clockwork. This time he answers the call, but still doesn’t bother to speak.

“Sasuke-kun…” a rather beleaguered Kabuto says into the receiver.

“I know you’re cranky in the mornings, but can you  _ please  _ be a little more vigilant about answering the phone--”

**No** . 

“Anyways, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, but we’re running a very tight schedule for today. I’ll be over in half an hour, so make sure you’re ready by th--”.

_ End Call.  _

Unconcerned, Sasuke’s next move is to fix himself a generous vodka tonic (a hearty breakfast), vaguely acknowledging that he’ll regret this in a couple hours. Whatever, it’s between this and the three-day-old store bought salad wilting in his otherwise barren fridge… 

Highball glass in hand, he’s finally ready to get dressed. Sips pensively as he stares into his closet which is not as full as one would expect from a professional model. Aside from regular housekeeping that comes in biweekly to clean the flat, Orochimaru also sends someone once every few months to keep Sasuke’s clothing selection fresh. 

He has to dress his favourite doll up to taste, after all. 

Sasuke takes a looong sip of his drink. After some half-hearted rummaging through his clothes, he opts for a loose white shirt that he tucks into a pair of black harem pants. Simple and comfortable. He hardly even spares himself a glance in the mirror as he puts the clothes on, trusting in his own genes to make him look casually beautiful at all times. 

He’s not in the mood for accessories, but he does slide a pair of dark-tinted designer shades over his eyes -- more of a necessity than a fashion choice. Sprays on some cologne onto his wrists, then dabs them against the side of his neck. Okay, done. Money.

Sasuke drains the rest of his “breakfast” in one go and heads out. The door to his flat locks shut behind him.

The apartment complex that Orochimaru is currently keeping Sasuke in is a tall, well-secured building that feels more like a fancy hotel than a place where people actually live.The tenants are all presumably well-off, even high profile, although Sasuke has yet to run into any of his neighbours. A blessing --discretion is key. 

He descends from the twelfth floor in a smooth, golden-hued elevator that forces him to look at his own muted reflection from all sides. Hmph. Looks good, as expected.

A cool electronic voice notifies him that he’s reached the ground floor and the doors open. Sasuke crosses through the lobby and into the bleak outside world, where Kabuto is inevitably waiting for him, leaning against his silver sedan, with one hand on his hip. Clad in a black turtleneck and a grey overcoat, his similarly ashen hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. 

His expression is the same as always; a loose, unwavering smile that doesn’t quite meet his dark, half-lidded eyes. Calm and unbearably smug. 

“Aren’t you chipper, Sasuke-kun~” he remarks lightly as Sasuke approaches, knowing full well that his sarcastic commentary is unwelcome. He continues talking, probably more worthless commentary, but Sasuke isn’t sure because he’s definitely stopped listening. Just wordlessly slides into the backseat with his arms crossed over his chest. 

They start driving. A solemn violin melody quietly plays from the car’s speakers, some real depressing shit, compounding Sasuke’s morning mood. He taps his head against the window, tries to focus on the sensation of cool glass on his skin. Shuts his eyes from the blurred sight of passing cars, buildings, and people.

The ride isn’t particularly short, but it’s over before Sasuke can manage to relax. They arrive before the studio, a tall glass building that Sasuke has frequented a few times.

“I’m going to park across the street, you go on ahead Sasuke-kun,” Kabuto says as he gets out of the driver’s seat to open Sasuke’s door from the outside. 

“Just so you know, Orochimaru-sama is tied up with some important business right now, so--”

“I’ll bet.”

“--so he’ll meet us here later.”

“Am I supposed to care?”

“Heh. You really should pay more attention to the things around you, Sasuke-kun.”

Whatever. And anyways, why does Orochimaru need to show up to the studio at all?

Sasuke opens his mouth to make a smartass retort about typical Orochimaru micromanaging, but cuts off as he’s struck by a sudden bout of lightheadedness. He staggers forward, barely managing to steady himself against the open car door.

Kabuto tilts his head, muted daylight gleaning off his round spectacles, obscuring his expression. “Are you --”

“I’m fine,” Sasuke mutters, grinding the bottom of his palm into his forehead. He feels a little shaky, nothing he hasn’t powered through before. “Probably just anemia...”

“Hmm,” Kabuto doesn’t press the issue, although Sasuke does catch a glimpse of him raising his eyebrows before he slips back into his car. 

Still dizzy, Sasuke makes his way to the front entrance of the studio, pressing his fingers against his temple. Maybe it’s his dark shades and the cloudy outside weather, but his vision also feels weak. Ugh, the start of this day could not get worse --

As Sasuke steps forward, a rogue hand suddenly makes direct contact with his chest. And the entire contents of a hot, milky cup of coffee spill all over the front of his shirt.

Sasuke stands very still, long enough for the initial burn to cool down. After counting the length of five pulsing heartbeats, he slowly turns his head. Finds himself facing a pair of wide blue eyes, level to his own.

**[A few hours earlier]**

With the power of an utterly distorted circadian rhythm, Uzumaki Naruto manages to sleep through his first eight alarms. However, alarm number nine finally makes a crack through his borderline-comatose state, and he bolts upright in bed, fully awake. 

He stretches his arms over his head with a groan so loud, it startles the sparrows outside his bedroom window. Tilts his head to the side until he feels a satisfying  _ crunch _ .

Alright! No practice today, and no work until this evening. Best make the most out of this day!

After a quick, cold shower, he ambles into his kitchen, towel draped over his shoulders to absorb the water still running off his head. He inhales his breakfast of champions: a microwaved bowl of instant miso, a boiled egg, two and a half rice balls, a banana, and another, smaller banana. Leaves his dishes to rot in the sink. 

To prepare for his day out, Naruto sits on his bedroom floor and shoves some essential items into his backpack, like his wallet, a water bottle… spicy chips. He unearths a shirt from a pile of (clean?) clothes in the centre of his room and holds it up to take a look. His own band merch. Or rather, what should’ve been band merch, had it not been swiftly rejected by half his friends.

The design is Naruto’s own, a simplistic silhouette of a fox eating noodles. Perfect, right? But Sakura’s “we’re not out here trying to sell kitsune ramen, you idiot” and Neji’s “...is that a cat?” kiboshed the whole proposal pretty quick. Still, Naruto’s pretty fond of the shirt, and he shoves it into his backpack just in case. You never know when you might need a band tee. 

Lastly, Naruto throws on a plain v neck, an open grey hoodie, and a pair of joggers, and inspects himself in the full length mirror shoved in the corner of his room, winking at his reflection and ruffling his still-damp blonde hair.  _ Alright _ . He grins, feeling energized.  _ Looking good _ ~.

Slings his backpack over his shoulder, slips into some FRESH sneakers, and bounces out of his apartment to face the day. It’s a little crisp and overcast outside, but the cool air feels good in his lungs. 

He’s supposed to meet Sakura-chan at the train station by ten. Although Naruto’s making decent time, he spots his friend in the distance, leaning against a pillar by the rails, immersed in her phone. Her rose-coloured hair, pulled back with a red bandana, stands out, especially on a grey morning like this.

“Mornin’!” he hums, raising a hand in greeting. 

Sakura waves back, slipping her phone back into her purse upon Naruto’s arrival. “Perfect timing, I was just about to text you I got here. Next train should be here in about ten minutes.”

The plan is for Sakura to get herself a new pair of boots, somewhere in the more ~upscale~ side of town. “I want to break them in before our next show,” she explains, tucking a stray lock of rosy hair behind her ear. “Thought it would be nice to splurge a little, since it’ll be a big one.”

“Eh,” Naruto scratches his chin. “I thought you wanted fancy new shoes so you could upstage I-”

Sakura flushes bright red (the colour of danger) and throws a half-hearted punch into his abdomen to shut him up. Unfortunately, even a “half-hearted” punch from Sakura contains devastating stopping power.

“....no...Sakura-chan, why....” Naruto wheezes, trying to remember how to breathe. He makes a mental note to avoid teasing her about Ino in the future. A mental note he’ll surely forget.

“Ah--” Sakura’s violent embarrassment gives way to sheepishness. “Sorry, sorry,” she raises her hands to indicate peace, cheeks still as pink as her hair. “I’ll treat you to a coffee later, so--”

“Your treat you say?” Naruto perks up with a wide grin.

“...You sure recovered quickly.” 

The train arrives shortly after. It’s about as packed as expected. Naruto lets Sakura-chan take an available seat and stands before her, backpack facing front, and grips the handle bar loosely. They chat aimlessly during the ride, and reach their destination uneventfully.

However, once they step out of the train and walk to their destination, their day is anything but uneventful. 

While there is no shortage of footwear boutiques in this part of the city, Sakura and Naruto quickly find themselves at a loss. “What about those?” Naruto suggests randomly, gesturing to a pair of suede ankle boots displayed in the window of the first shop they pass by. But Sakura just solemnly places her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head, her tone grave:

“I could buy….a new drum set for that price.” 

Naruto pales and lowers his hand, which is trembling slightly from the revelation. Fashion districts are not to be underestimated...

Not the types to be easily discouraged, Naruto and Sakura continue their journey in search of more affordable, but still stylish enough to upstage/impress Ino-chan , and finally find a more manageable shop near the end of the long street, closer to the rest of the downtown area.

The next trial involves Sakura-chan trying on about seventeen different styles of boots. Bored, Naruto presents her with his own selection: a pair of knee-high, holographic-sheen, fifteen centimeter platform boots, which gets him promptly fired from “helping”.

“Go get us something to drink!!” Sakura snaps, slapping a few 1000 yen bills into Naruto’s hand. 

Yes, ma’am!

There’s a fancy little cafe nearby, nestled between a giant glassy building (a studio of sorts?) and a jewelry store. Seems like the kind of place Sakura-chan would like -- elegant, adorned with potted plants and minimalistic furniture. Nice to sit in, but also offers to-go, which is what Naruto needs right now.

The barista welcomes Naruto as he enters, their smile fixed in place as he peruses the menu, presented on a wooden headboard above the cash register. Huh? What are all these letters? T? S? What the hell is a babyccino?!?!

After about three minutes, the barista takes mercy: “If you like sweet beverages, I recommend this one--” they begin to point to an item, but Naruto’s so overwhelmed, he cuts them off with a “I’ll take two!”

“Right away, dear customer.”

After a surprisingly long, intricate series of preparation steps Naruto would liken to ancient alchemy, the barista hands him two mystery beverages (a something-or-other latte). Mission success.

Naruto pushes his way out of the cafe with his shoulder, taking a tentative sip of his drink. Oh, the barista wasn’t kidding about sweetness--it’s almost overpoweringly sugary.

From across the street, he spots Sakura exiting her with --oho, what’s this? A black paper shopping bag? 

“Sakura-chan!” he calls out, raising his cup up to hail her attention. Sakura glances up at the sound of his voice, and starts towards him.

“Did you get ‘em?” OH thank God. This should be the end of their harrowing journey to the fancier side of town.

“Yes! That should be everything, thanks Naruto,” Sakura chimes as she reaches Naruto, accepting his offer of mystery latte with both hands.

“What is this, by the way?”

“Oh, this? I honestly have no idea--” Naruto raises his own cup emphatically, and Sakura’s countenance pales suddenly. “Ah, wait Naruto-kun, look out --”

But it’s too late. By the time Naruto processes Sakura-chan’s warning, his hand connects with something...solid. He feels his cup’s lid slide off, followed by the damning sound of splashing liquid.

Naruto freezes. He stares at Sakura-chan, who stares back, and her wide green eyes seem to reflect Naruto’s own Fear™. After five seconds too long, Naruto forces himself to turn and face the damage: 

A real Pretty Boy is standing next to him: Tall (tch, maybe even slightly taller than Naruto?), dark hair mussed up in the back in an unintentionally sexy way, simple but delicate features. 

He’s looking down at his  _ white  _ shirt, which is currently completely drenched with coffee.

“S-” the apology stutters in Naruto’s throat as his brain short-circuits. Sakura is no help either, just burying her face into her free hand. You can’t hide from reality, Sakura-chan...

The Pretty Boy is similarly frozen, motionless as the coffee quietly drips from his shirt onto the pavement. His eyes are obscured by a pair of sunglasses (on a cloudy day like this? Really?) but Naruto has a sinking suspicion that his expression is frosty at a minimum.

Naruto tries to think fast, but ends up not thinking at all. Moving on pure instinct, he reaches out and grabs the Pretty Boy by the arm.

“SORRY!!!” he yells frantically, squeezing the slender wrist in his hand. “Let’s--let’s get you changed!” and proceeds to drag this sopping wet stranger with him back down the street.

“SAKURA-CHAN GO ON AHEAD WITHOUT ME, I’LL CATCH UP WITH YOU IN A MINUTE” he shouts over his shoulder as an afterthought, not waiting to see if his abandoned friend is fine on her own. 

He finds himself pushing back through the doors of the cafe he had literally just left. “Uh I already paid,” he announces to the barista, proffering his (empty) cup as evidence. “We just need to uhhh...”

The barista glances down at the mess on Pretty Boy’s front. “Men’s room is that way,” they gesture towards the left. Naruto salutes as thanks. 

The toilet is a one-stall type set up, so it’s quite cramped. At this point, Pretty Boy must snap out of his stricken daze, as he roughly rips his arm out of Naruto’s grip. “Don’t touch me,” he scowls tersely, although he staggers back from the sudden movement, hitting the back of his head against the door.

Naruto isn’t paying the least bit of attention. “Let’s see, I know I brought something,” he mutters, plopping his backpack onto the sink and starts rifling through the contents. 

“Oi--”

“Ah!” Naruto triumphantly withdraws a t-shirt from within the confines of his backpack. He presents it to Pretty Boy with an expectant grin. “I’m sure this’ll fit ya.”

“You expect me to wear that?” Pretty Boy squints, mouth pressed into an unimpressed line.

The corner of Naruto’s mouth twitches. Okay, so this might be a little bit ( completely ) his fault, but what’s with this guy’s attitude?

“What, you’re just gonna walk around covered in coffee?” 

After an overly long pause, Pretty Boy finally clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds his hand out.

“Just...give it here. What is this anyways? A cat?? 

“ _ Huh?  _ It’s clearly a fox?!” 

Pretty Boy doesn’t seem convinced. After reluctantly accepting Naruto’s shirt, he slides the sunglasses off his face and carefully sets them next to the sink. Although the other man’s eyes are downcast, Naruto is close enough to see that his irises are a deep, gorgeous shade of red, framed by dark lashes.

“Pretty…” Naruto murmurs unconsciously, and the pretty boy tenses up ever-so-slightly.

He strips his soiled shirt off, revealing a toned physique. His skin is clear and unmarred, save for the pink heat marks on his chest (WHOOPS), and a strange mark on the base of his neck. No, not a mark-- Naruto squints, tilting his head to get a better look. A tattoo? A symbol in the shape of three tomoe...it seems oddly familiar, but Naruto can’t quite put his finger on it.

“How long are you going to stare at me,” Pretty Boy snaps, dumping his shirt onto the sink.

“Ahaha, my bad,” Naruto scratches his own cheek sheepishly. He would take a few steps back if he could, but in this position he can only awkwardly turn to the side.”I just thought that was cool,” he taps his own neck in the same spot as Pretty Boy’s tattoo. “Does it mean anything, or..?”

At this, Pretty Boy pauses, halfway through pulling his arms through the sleeves of Naruto’s t-shirt. He raises his red eyes for the first time to meet Naruto’s gaze directly. 

“...Do you not know who I am?”

Uh.

Naruto snorts. “Should I?” 

No response. Well then.

Pretty Boy just frowns a little and pulls the t-shirt over his head. A perfect fit. 

“Fufufu, see! I knew it was a good idea to bring th--”

Pretty Boy cuts Naruto’s smugness off with a warning glare. 

“Ahahah..... sorry again about this…” Naruto sighs, reaching over to grab the crumpled shirt out of the sink and appraises the damage with his layman’s eye. 

“Ah jeez, this looked really nice too, I guess I should take it to the dry-cleaners, yeah?” 

But Pretty Boy just huffs dismissively. “Don’t bother, just throw it out,” he mutters, casting disdainful glances at himself in the mirror above the sink.

“??But it’s so nice?” 

“That one would’ve been out by the end of the month, anyways.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, I said, if that’s all, I’m leaving.” Pretty Boy slides his shades back over his eyes and exits the restroom without so much as a goodbye.

The door clicks shut, and Naruto is left alone, standing next to a toilet, holding a rude stranger’s wet shirt in his hands. What… a turn of events. If only Sakura-chan had--

Oh  **_fuck_ ** _ Sakura-chan.  _

Naruto slings his backpack back onto his shoulder and bolts out of the cafe at mach speed (not before shouting THANKS AGAIN at the barista), almost bulldozing into Sakura on his way out. 

“Naruto!” Sakura flusters, green eyes wide with agitation. “What the hell happened in there?!” 

“Boy I wish I fuckin’ knew. He’s like,  _ super _ awkward, but don’t worry, I’ll get this--” he raises the shirt up in triumphantly, like a flag. “Back to him if it kills me.”

“Wh-why would it kill you…wait, how are you planning on getting that back to him?”

Naruto blinks with sudden realization. “Oh shit. I forgot to get his name.” 

At this, Sakura’s distress reaches its boiling point. She grabs Naruto by the shoulders and shakes him frantically: “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Do you seriously not know who that was ??!?!”

This is the second time in like five minutes that Naruto’s been asked this question. 

“Sh-should I?” he replies, less sarcastically than before. 

Sakura wordlessly steers Naruto 180 degrees and faces him before a massive clothing advertisement plastered on a nearby shop window. She points her finger forward to direct Naruto’s gaze, although she doesn’t need to. Naruto can clearly see that the model sprawled half-naked over the poster has the same red eyes, the same distinctive neck tattoo, the same sullen glare. There’s no doubt about it...

Naruto blinks.

“Eh…?”

“That was Uchiha Sasuke, Lord Orochimaru’s exclusive model.”

……..  **_EH_ ** ? 

*******

“Oh my,” Orochimaru hums lightly, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow as he inspects Sasuke’s change of clothes. “That’s quite the new look, Sasuke-kun...”

“My apologies, Orochimaru-sama, I left him alone for literally five minutes...” Kabuto mock-laments, dark eyes glittering somewhere between annoyance and amusement. 

Sasuke shrugs, equally unimpressed with the situation. He’s still rattled from his little bathroom encounter with the blonde boy from earlier. A real “my pace” kinda guy, that one, definitely the type that Sasuke can handle the least. Whatever, it’s not like they’ll meet again. 

“There was an accident”. He does not elaborate.

“Clearly…Well, no matter. You’ll be undressing for this next shoot anyways,” Orochimaru sighs airily. He pauses for a moment, then reaches to tap the bridge of Sasuke’s sunglasses with a well-manicured finger. He’s technically shorter than Sasuke, but his 10 cm black pumps are giving him a slight height advantage.

Slowly, slowly he pulls the shades off, then brushes his thumb against the tender skin beneath Sasuke’s eye, above his cheek. 

“Don’t.” Sasuke warns quietly. 

“You certainly seem well enough, if a little pale,” Orochimaru murmurs in a low voice, pulling his hand away. “Although we’ll have to do something about the dark undereye. Try eating something that isn’t alcohol in the morning, would you, Sasuke-kun.” 

Tch. That damn snake Kabuto must’ve said something about his dizzy spell. With that, Orochimaru pushes his hand against Sasuke’s back to shepherd him forward towards the dressing room. “You should be familiar with most of the staff today,” he notes, brushing back a stray strand of long black hair from his face. 

He probably thinks this fun fact will relax Sasuke, but as the door swings open, Sasuke feels anything but relaxed. To start, the lighting in the room is harsh, to put it mildly. He wishes his sunglasses hadn’t been confiscated, if at least to dim this slowly-mounting headache. And then there’s the “staff” in question... 

“Lol what are you wearing,” stylist Hozuki Suigetsu snorts, immediately crossing into Sasuke’s three meter “recommended personal space” radius. “You breaking your contract to advertise… what is that? A cat?” 

“A fox,” Sasuke replies dully, and barely has time to brace himself for makeup artist Uzumaki Karin who manifests from thin air, flanking him from behind with a muffled shriek of joy. “Mornin’ Sasuke~” she chimes, wasting no time to fuss with Sasuke’s hair. 

Sasuke’s HP is starting to reach a critical low. Today is not his day. 

His only solace is hair stylist Jugo, who’s sitting next to the vanity mirrors and greets him with a shy wave. Sasuke nods in turn, while simultaneously trying to twist his head away from Karin’s unwelcome hands.

“HHHHHHHNGGHH, I for one think this casual look is good on him too,” Karin coos, undeterred. 

Suigetsu laughs, stepping back to rummage through a portable clothing rack. “Sure...our moody Sasuke-sama looks good in anything. Too bad the ~lifeless doll~ illusion is ruined every time he opens his mouth.

Karin adjusts her glasses, flips her red hair with a tetchy huff, voice lowering an octave. “Don’t say it like that, dumbass, you know I can’t even deny it.”

“I can hear you two…”

“Oh, is that so?” Suigetsu grins, baring his razor-sharp canines. He places one hand on his hips and with the other, he pulls a hanger off the rack and holds it out. “Anyways, time’s tickin’. Let’s get you dolled up and (un)dressed~”

*

Today’s shoot is for the launch of Orochimaru’s new fragrance label. The old snake won’t stop expanding his enterprise: prêt-à-porter as well as runway fashion, men’s, women’s, unisex clothes, footwear, handbags, jewelry...and now cologne. 

His polished, youthful looks are betrayed by years of experience and influence in the industry. Sasuke isn’t sure how old Orocihmaru is, but his ever-expanding domain speaks for itself; widely regarded as a genius and an eccentric, there are few pies Orochimaru doesn’t already have his fingers in.

Sasuke sucks air sharply between his teeth. While his role as Orochimaru’s muse offers him serious benefits and standing in industry, including money, renown, and circumventing the tiresome modelling agency process, right now he’s feeling anything but grateful:

Nauseous, head buzzing with chatter, tired, studio air so dry he feels like he could get a nosebleed from it… and they’ve draped him in some kind of...silk sheet? Great. Thanks for literally nothing, Suigetsu. 

The photographer signals for Sasuke to change his position. Sasuke complies, his body practically moving on autopilot as he poses for the camera. 

“Beautiful.” 

Certainly doesn’t feel like it. When he was younger, he may have welcomed this kind of worthless praise, but now it just falls on numb, deaf ears. What’s really “beautiful” is the fat revenue Sasuke’s going to push with this half-naked photoshoot. 

And yet, despite these negative thoughts clouding his dehydrated and malnourished mind, Sasuke can’t help but think of that dumb stupid blonde idiot from earlier.

“Pretty”, was it. It’s the same old shit, nothing Sasuke hasn’t heard before. And yet. The feeling of being scrutinized under that earnest blue gaze…

Sasuke’s neck floods with a warm, uncomfortable sensation. 

Tch. Must be getting feverish. 

Maybe he really should eat after this set...

*******

**TBC...**


	2. Containment Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *sasuke voice* some stuff happened...
> 
> (alternately: boy meets boy 2 eletric boogaloo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for making it to chapter 2 i'll literally die for u all.
> 
> warnings for this chapter are pretty lite, but i will have you know there's a scene that's got some mild stalkery vibes to it. subtle as hell but still present. just in case that is not amenable to any of my good readers.
> 
> sorry if this is incoherent i've been awake for so many hours x.x

Formally called the Foxhole Cabaret, lovingly referred to as “the Hole” by regulars, this live music venue and bar is tucked into the livelier area of downtown. The building was originally a kabuki theatre, and has since been renovated and expanded into a popular locale for the underground music scene.

Owned and managed by the enigmatic former guitarist for the eclectic musician  _ Rin _ , Hatake Kakashi, the Hole houses both obscure local bands and more prominent artists rising in industry. Although the venue is known to sell out shows no problem, it's not unusual for it to be dead on a Tuesday night with no gigs lined up. 

Which is good, because one particular blonde part-time staff member is currently slumped over the bar counter, arms extended limply in front of him. Not exactly the image of a hardworking employee.

_ “Hnnnghghghhhh”. _

Naruto groans despondently for the seventeenth time this shift alone.

His mind is preoccupied--has been for the past few days. And who can blame him?

Directly after the Coffee Incident™, Sakura-chan had sat him on the curb and gave him a crash course about Uchiha Sasuke:

Blah blah blah, model in his early 20’s that’s recently been rising in popularity thanks to his exclusive contract with an eccentric bigshot designer. Something about him coming from an elite fashion bloodline that’s since fallen into obscurity. Sakura-chan also covered his sizes and recent fashion week appearances, but at that point Naruto had mentally clocked out.

He has no idea why he’s expected to know any of this, but whatever. The main takeaway is that this Uchiha “Pretty Boy” Sasuke is famous enough to have his face plastered all over high-end store fronts. And right now, this model’s shirt is sitting in the middle of Naruto’s mess of a living room.

Naruto’s still not sure how he plans on returning it. Like, what are the chances of running into someone like  _ that _ in the middle of the street...again?

Hmph. Naruto’s just going to have to bridge the gap. And if the rumour that someone from a prominent record label is gonna be at his upcoming show...heh, he could become a full blown rockstar in no time. When that happens, there’ll be plenty of opportunity to mingle with the likes of idols and models… 

Huhuh, then he’ll be able to afford any number of pretentiously overpriced shirts. Perfect. Naruto’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he lets his imagination and competitive spirit run rampant (a regular occurrence). He’s been on a roll lately, but it’ll be even better when everyone knows the name Uzumaki Naruto!

Tragically, his fantasy-mode is short-lived, as a memory of Sasuke’s glare cuts right through his daydreams. “ _ Do YoU nOt KnOw WhO I aM _ ?”

Naruto grinds his forehead into the bar with another strangled groan. 

“What,” Nara Shikamaru starts, eyes narrowed warily as he wipes the counter with a barcloth. “Is your problem?” It’s clearly killing him to even ask, but Shikamaru is nothing if not attentive. A good trait for a bartender; he’s the kind of guy you can depend on to keep patrons in check. 

“Hngngh?”

“Sakura-chan mentioned he’s even been spacing out during practice!” fellow part-timer Yamanaka Ino chimes in, sliding onto a barstool opposite Naruto. 

“Ino, shouldn’t you be watching the door?”

“Hmm~? Not like anyone’s coming in tonight. Besides, this is more important.” She props her chin against her hand and peers down at Naruto, beaming with curiosity. Looks like Ino-chan is bored as well. 

“It’s nothing…” Naruto mumbles, peeking a blue eye up at his coworkers. Since Ino isn’t grilling him about running into a model, it seems like Sakura-chan has kept quiet about  _ why  _ he’s so off his game lately. Is she trying to keep their shopping trip a secret for now? Girls are so mysterious :(

“It’s obviously not nothing,” Shikamaru rolls his eyes, but his tone softens subtly. “Are you nervous about the show? Less than two weeks to go.” 

It would be a lie if Naruto said he wasn’t nervous at all. The closer the date approaches, the harder it is for him to sleep at night. But he’s more excited than anything. He’s itching to get back on the stage.

No, his concerns right now are much more, uhh what’s the word. Stupid.

“Hey so...:” he starts, listlessly picking the chipped polish off his fingernails. “Hypothetically, what would you guys do if a stranger spilled a bunch of coffee on you?” 

Ino does a poor job of muffling her laughter behind her hands. 

“Hypothetically, I’d kill them. Is that what this is about?” Shikamaru sighs heavily, tossing some old lemon wedges into the trash. “Let me guess, you weren’t paying attention and completely t-boned some stranger on the street.”

Dead on. Nothing gets past Shikamaru. 

“See, I was out and about the other day, and there was this ....pretty boy--”

“Okay,” Shikamaru interrupts, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with a sharp intake of breath through his teeth. “Sorry I asked.” 

“NO, let him speak~” Ino sparkles, sitting up to smack Naruto on his limp noodle arms. “Tell me more about this pretty boy? A fated encounter?!” 

“Can you two please just get back to work. Also get the fuck off my bar?”

Naruto doesn’t get the fuck off the bar, but he does sit up a little, blocking Ino’s precision strike prods with his forearms. “It all happened so fast, and I still don’t know what to do about his stupid shirt,” he mumbles wistfully. Neither of these two are being any help at all, but he does feel a bit better.

“Wait, you stole his shirt?” 

“KYAH, Naruto-kun, don’t just drop something insane like that without elaborating!” 

"I don't know about 'stole', he has my shirt too?"

"Eh? So are you going to do a hostage exchange, or...?"

Never a dull moment at the Hole.

*******

Whose fucking bright idea was this? 

A blood vessel under Sasuke’s eye pulses with irritation, more or less to the beat of blaring house music. The last thing he wanted to do after four consecutive days of non-stop shoots was to “go out into society for once”, and yet...

He’s stuck in this hellhole of a club. A glitzy establishment, littered with VIPs from the entertainment and fashion industries, as well as hedonistic rich kids and unhinged socialites. Sasuke has retreated to the mezzanine floor, leaning against the balcony rails. Looking down onto the dance floor writhing with bodies, like a snakepit.

Tch. 

“PFFF,” Suigetsu snorts, snatching the silver flask out of Sasuke’s hands. His pale hair is pulled back from his face, dyed with the colours of the flashing neon lights overhead, and his skin seems to be glittering. He’s painted his nails with ultraviolet polish too. Suigetsu loves to party, so he sure likes to go all out...

“Could you look more miserable? C’mon, put those good looks of yours to work~”.

“That’s literally all I do,” Sasuke counters dryly, without a shred of irony. He checks his phone briefly: it’s well past midnight, no new messages. The battery is also running dangerously low, not that it matters. 

“Then think of it as a job. We’re here to represent the illustrious Orochimaru-sama”.

Suigetsu’s not wrong, but since Orochimaru didn’t bother to show up (not that he’d be caught dead in a place like this), that means Sasuke has no obligation to network. Good riddance. If anything, the message he’s getting is to stand around and look pretty. Annoying, but easy enough.

“Look, I even dressed you up and everything,” Suigetsu waves his free hand emphatically, and holds Sasuke’s flask up to his mouth as a makeshift microphone:

“And tonight we have a rare appearance from the brooding beau, Uchiha Sasuke,” he hams his voice up mockingly. “Dressed in a tastefully slutty outfit coordinated but everyone’s favourite stylist, ~Hozuki Suigetsu~” he presses his fingers into his own chest. 

“To start, we’ve got the loose black crop shirt with sheer shoulders and mildly suggestive ukiyo-e print over the chest, draped in a kimono-style cardigan. A casual look that screams ‘I don’t give a shit about classic art, but just know that none of you would’ve been able to afford my ass in the Edo-period’~” 

Sasuke’s under-eye twitches harder. 

“Moving on, we’ve got a stylish belt by Orochimaru, a single dangle earring by Orochimaru, boots by Orochimaru. High-waisted slacks by...Sasori. Heh, so much for brand loyalty. This aesthetic would’ve gone great with a simple choker, but then we’d be hiding the REAL moneymaker,” Suigetsu pokes the side of Sasuke’s neck, swiftly pulling his hand back before Sasuke can swat it away.

“‘Job’ my ass, you’re just here to dick around.”

“Yeah, and? It’s called a work-life balance,” Suigetsu drops the commentator bit and finally takes a swig out of the stolen flask. He coughs immediately after, half-laughing as he perks up a white eyebrow. “Jeez Sasuke, what kind of psychopath smuggles straight gin into the club?”

Sasuke doesn’t dignify this with a response, just confiscates the flask from Suigetsu.

“Ah, don’t give me that ‘it’s your fault for taking what’s not yours’ look, relax. Here,” without warning, Suigetsu swipes his finger across both of Sasuke’s cheeks, leaving behind a damp, sticky sensation on Sasuke’s skin. 

“...”

“Just something to give you back your ~*sparkle*~,” Suigetsu winks, holding out his palm to reveal fingertips covered in some kind of glitter gel, similar to the shine on his own face. 

“Do you want to die?” Sasuke asks quietly, which is Suigetsu’s cue to flash a cheeky peace sign and disappear into the crowd, out of Sasuke’s combat range. 

Alone again. Sasuke wipes the mouth of the flask with the bottom of his shirt, then takes a drink of liquor, hoping to mute out the sensory overload. 

it’s not just the crowd or the stifling air or his own introversion ( or Suigetsu’s annoying ass... ) that’s setting him on edge. Under the abrasive lighting of the club, Sasuke can feel eyes following him wherever he goes.

He’s used to this. Obviously. After selling his soul to the fashion industry, he can’t exactly pick and choose the kind of attention he attracts, nor does he care to. But tonight, he can’t seem to shake the distinctly sickening feeling of being watched. 

And speaking of sickening… some girl (an actress in a popular period drama, not that Sasuke would remember someone like that) has suddenly appeared by his side, slurring praises that are nigh unintelligible against the bass pulsing from the club speakers. Her fingers brush against arm. Way too close. 

Before Sasuke can shake her off, another one appears. And then another.

“Ehhh?? Sasuke’s here?” 

“How unexpected~” 

“Did you come here with anyone?” 

“Oh my GOD, I’ve been dying to get a chance to talk to you~”

Like moths to fucking flame… and they wonder why he hates going into “out into society.” But it’s fine, he can handle them, they’re annoying but harmless. He’s dealt with way worse in the past, so all he really has to do is endure for a while longer until --

“Oh that’s right, Sasuke-san, is it true that your brother --” 

Aaaaaand there’s his limit. 

“Eh? Where’d he go?”

Coat check. Then he escapes to the outside world, where the air is much cooler, laced with a sobering early morning breeze. He’s not quite drunk, but he’s not  _ not  _ drunk either. Overhead, the moonlight is obscured by light pollution and murky clouds. 

He checks his phone-- nevermind, no he doesn’t. Of course the fucking battery has decided to die for real in his time of need. 

Forcing himself to unclench his teeth, Sasuke glances left and right. He’s got a few options: go back into the club to fetch Suigetsu or ask one of the strangers smoking outside to borrow a phone.

The answer is simple. Sasuke swallows back the rest of his gin for warmth, balls his fists into the pockets of his black wool coat, and heads down the street. He’s not completely unfamiliar with the area, so he’s sure he’ll find a convenience store or something if he keeps walking. 

This proves to be true; the Uchiha intuition never misses. After five or fifteen minutes (the progression of time is lost to Sasuke’s spiralling thoughts), he spots the glow of a convenience store sign way up ahead at the end of the street. A beacon in the night. 

It’s not so bad, Sasuke muses as beelines towards the store. Taking a walk like this. It’s been a while since he’s just had some time to himself that wasn’t limited to drinking in his own flat. Allows him brood in peace.

Although it’s late, the city is restless. The streets are still peppered with cars and passersby; drunken salarymen stumbling in and out of izakayas, younger people enjoying the nightlife, musicians on their way to late night shows. None of them pay him any mind. 

For a while, that is. But the unpleasant feeling crawling under his skin still hasn’t left. If anything, the farther he walks, the tenser he gets. Without changing his pace or turning around, Sasuke pulls out his dead phone and pretends to scroll through it, flicking his eyes to either side.

Maybe it’s just his imagination? There’s no one particularly threatening in his vicinity. And even if he is being followed, what’s the worst they could do on a lively street like this? 

No. He grips his phone tighter. To his left, from the corner of his eye, he catches sight of his own reflection mirrored in the window of a closed storefront next to the convenience store. The warm orange blur of nightlife is also reflected, and among the mess of lights and passing cars, Sasuke can see a black vehicle rolling forward some distance away. Not too close.

But close enough. Ten more steps until he crosses the threshold of the store entrance. Nine, eight, seven…

Even without turning around, Sasuke can just tell the car is slowing down to a stop nearby. So fucking typical at this point, it’s more of an inconvenience than anything. Six, five, four.

He’s not scared or anything. Really, he’s not.

Three, two. One. 

Safe.

*******

On account of slow business, Shikamaru decides to close earlier than usual, just before one in the morning. A pretty painless shift (for Naruto and Ino, at least).

Naruto and Ino head outside together. The venue is technically underground, with a short set of brick stairs leading up to the street. 

Oh, it’s chilly out. Naruto zips up his bomber jacket all the way to the top and fixes his baseball cap snug onto his head. Presses both his earlobes to toy with his piercings as he waits for Shikamaru to finish locking up. Two small golden hoops and a helix ring in the left ear, a little stud in the shape of a toad on the right. 

He feels strangely restless. Maybe he  _ is  _ nervous about the upcoming show. Introspecting about these things is kinda tough. 

“Alright, I’m off,” Ino hums, waving her gloved hands in farewell. “Tell me more about your coffee stain-kun on Thursday~”. 

Naruto sets his mouth into a weary line, eyebrows slack. “You sure did enjoy my tragic story, Ino-chan…” Jeez. It really was a good idea to leave out the “model” part of the anecdote. He’s barely strong enough to withstand the grilling as it is now.

“Of course! It was your fated first meeting, after all.”

“Uh, I don’t know about ‘fated’...”

“Hahaha, call it, hmm… “ she taps a finger to her lips. “Oh! Women’s intuition. I’m sure you’ll meet your prince again. ‘Kay, see ya Naruto-kun, Shikamaru-senpai~”

Oh, Shikamaru is done closing up shop. Home time~

On the way to his motorcycle, Shikamaru stops suddenly, patting the jacket pocket on his chest. “Ah shit,” he mutters. “I forgot I’m out of cigarettes. Mind if we stop by a konbini on our way home?”

Naruto’s got no complaints. There’s one nearby, hardly a detour. 

As they push their way inside, Shikamaru jerks his head toward the back of the store. “Ugh, I should probably grab something to eat for tomorrow while I’m at it.”

It’s Shikamaru’s day off tomorrow (technically today?), so the thought of going to buy lunch or, god forbid, preparing a meal, is probably too great a burden right now. Naruto’s just impressed he’s planning ahead at all. Naruto could never… 

While he waits, he ambles over to the magazines near the front of the store. Swaying slightly from side to side, casually running his finger against the rack. Oh nice, a new issue of Jump... 

…..After a few moments of suspect fidgeting, Naruto bites the bullet and awkwardly creeps towards a section he usually ignores: the fashion mags.

He picks up a magazine at random and sneaks a peek. Sure enough, after flipping through briefly, he finds a two-page spread of Uchiha Sasuke. Tch, so he really is that big of a deal, huh.

In the picture, he’s in a waistcoat and some plum...burgundy? Uhh..purple-red shirt unbuttoned at the top. Posed all pretentious-like, showing off a pointlessly expensive watch. 

Shit, he really is pretty, but does he have to look so damn bored all the time? Or is that a prerequisite for fashion models? And another thing…Naruto squints, holding the magazine closer to his face. He’s piecing this together far too late, but the designer’s symbol, elegantly drawn in white on the left side of the page matches the tattoo on the base of the model’s neck. 

So that’s what that was? A brand? 

_ Step.  _

Naruto perks up from his thoughts as a set of footsteps approach him from behind. “Ah, Shikamaru,” he slaps the magazine closed a touch too quickly. “Are you done already--”

“Huh?” a familiar voice asks. A voice that distinctly does NOT belong to Shikamaru. Naruto fwips his head around, nearly dislocating his neck.

There it is! That horribly pretty, horribly bored face. Red eyes peering over designer shades that blink with mild surprise as they register Naruto.

“Oh. It’s Coffee Boy”.

“AHHHH!”

Naruto’s muffled shriek is not well received: Uchiha Sasuke flinches at the sudden exclamation and slides his shades back up his face despite the fact that it’s clearly one in the morning. This guy got light sensitivity or something? 

“Sorry, uhhh,” Naruto drops his tone to an indoor voice and shoves the magazine back onto the rack. But the damage is done, as Sasuke’s gaze follows his hands. 

“So I take it you know who I am now,” he quips dryly. He’s standing out even more today, clad in a long black coat, heeled boots that set him an extra few centimeters above Naruto (tch). A silver pendant in the shape of a blade dangles from the lobe of his right ear. He even looks like he's literally sparkling, such is the magnetic power of a model.

Naruto flusters, eye twitching with annoyance. “Yes, yes, sorry about that but no need to worry, I’m all educated on the great Uchih--”

Sasuke’s condescending demeanour drops in an instant and he steps forward, grabbing Naruto’s sleeve. “Keep your voice down, idiot” he hisses, checking over his shoulder. “Don’t say my name so loud.” 

Ah. Right. He’s kind of a celebrity. 

“But there’s barely anyone in here?” Naruto whispers loudly. The only other people in the store, besides Shikamaru, seem to be the staff. And in Naruto’s experience, night shift konbini employees wouldn’t react even if the prime minister rolled in.

Sasuke clicks his tongue. “That’s not it,” he mutters, scanning the front window through the magazine racks. His voice is so soft, it’s almost inaudible.

“...I think I’m being followed?”

“EH?!” Alarmed, Naruto forgets to whisper (and think). He clasps Sasuke’s hand and pulls hard, forcing them both to crouch down in the middle of the aisle.

“What the  **fuck** are you doing?!”

“Shh!” Nartuo puts a finger to his mouth, furtively glancing around. “Is it that? Uhh, what are they called… Papa…”

Sasuke stares at him.

“.......razzi?”

“Oh. Probably.”

So these things happen too. Not something Naruto’s ever really considered in his fantasies of when he makes it to the big stage. 

“Jeez, do you always walk downtown at night in flashy clothes like that? No wonder they caught sight of you,” Naruto whispers (quietly this time), which earns him a scathing glare. 

“Of course not,” Sasuke snaps, “I was going to call a cab, but my phone died. I just need a charge-”

OOH! Naruto’s eyes spark as he’s hit with an idea. Sasuke can’t leave through the front, or he’ll get spotted right away, so stealth is key. Naruto takes his cap off and plops it right onto Sasuke’s head. “Hmm,” he muses, tapping his finger to his chin pensively as he inspects his handiwork. “Not really as good a disguise as I thought it would be, ya know?”

“Why would a hat be a good disguise? It doesn’t even hide my face?” Although Sasuke says this condescendingly, he adjusts the brim of the hat to fit more comfortably.

“Hmph. Says the guy who wears sunglasses indoors and at night for no reason.”

“My fucking eyes are red, dumbass. Not exactly a common phenotype.”

Naruto bristles, unconsciously squeezing his grip around Sasuke’s arm. “HAH?! You really are a rude bastard, aren’t ya? And when I’m tryna help you and everything.” 

“When did I ever ask for your help--” 

“Oi.”

Naruto and Sasuke both startle, jerking their heads up in unison. At the end of the aisle is Shikamaru, staring back at them with dead fish eyes. He’s holding a plastic bag; looks like he snagged a few bento boxes, a carton of cigarettes, an energy drink. 

He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to ask what the hell is going on, but then seems to think better of it.

“....I take it you’re not going home yet, Naruto. I’ll go on without you, then.”

Naruto signals “OK” with his fingers, avoiding direct eye contact with Shikamaru’s unimpressed gaze. Shikamaru hesitates before he leaves, brow creased slightly as he glances down in Sasuke’s direction. “Pretty boy, huh?” he mouths at Naruto.

Sasuke’s frown deepens. “What did he say?” he asks, trying to pry Naruto’s fingers off his wrist.

Naruto’s ire evaporates and he relaxes his grip, batting his free hand sheepishly. “Aahahah! I wonder…Anyways, you don’t wanna go back out the front in case they spot you, right? We could go to the toilet and trade jackets?” he proposes, but gets immediately shot down: 

“What is with you and dragging me off to the toilet to wear your clothes?! Enough.” 

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” 

Sasuke goes quiet, catching his thumbnail between his teeth as he thinks. “They’ve got to have a back entrance, right?” he mumbles after a moment. “Somewhere they accept bulk deliveries, maybe a break room or staff toilet?” 

Ohoho! “I think there’s a door behind the fruit and drinks section,” Naruto gestures with his thumb. “Now we just gotta get past the staff…” 

Naruto and Sasuke both turn to the side; the cashier is visible from their vantage point, a young woman in her late teens or early twenties. She’s inspecting her nails with the intense focus of an employee that has nothing better to do than space the fuck out. Her colleague seems to be half-asleep next to the coffee station, “wiping” the counters.

Naruto’s lips curl into a mischievous smile and he holds his palm up to his mouth, leaning closer. “If we get caught, you should just use your celebrity *charm* on them,” he teases, but Sasuke just tilts his head down so his glasses slide down his nose and he can roll his eyes at Naruto directly

“Yeah, if it comes down to it,” he half-smirks in reply.  _ He could at least humbly deny it... _

They stay low as they walk down the aisle, their movements coordinated as they take the long way around, out the line of sight of the unvigilant konbini staff. Naruto walks behind Sasuke, fighting the urge to mess with the raven hair sticking up through the strap of Naruto’s cap. It just  _ has  _ to be styled to look that messy. 

The first level of this mission is cleared without a hitch as he and Sasuke casually push their way through the STAFF ONLY double set of doors tucked behind the sandwich display, undetected. 

However, a new challenge appears. They find themselves in a cramped, dimly lit pass-through of sorts. A greyish, much less polished floor. To the left is a door presumably leading to a storage space, to the right a tiny staff room, and before them is a door to the outside --

“Shit, it’s locked,” Sasuke curses, jostling the handle fruitlessly. Naruto blinks, pushing his way to the door. “You got a paper clip or something?” he asks, inspecting the lock in the handle. 

Sasuke slips his finger under the hat and withdraws a pin from within the confines of his hair and hands it to Naruto. “Is this actually going to work or are you just fucking around?” 

“Heheh, don’t you worry. I used to do this all the time when I was younger~” Naruto replies smugly, twisting the pin between his fingers. He’s too focused on trying to jimmy the cheap lock open, but Naruto’s positive that Sasuke is squinting at him with thinly-veiled skepticism. Whatever, prettyboy. Just you wait--

“Oi. Hurry the fuck up, I think someone’s coming.”

“Already?! Shit,” Naruto bites the end of his tongue. What if they get caught? Is this the kinda thing that would reach tabloids? **BREAKING NEWS: UCHIHA SASUKE CAUGHT TRYING TO BREAK OUT OF A KONBINI** Hmmm...he’s not too sure about that one. Not exactly a spicy scandal. 

Almost there. As he twists the door handle, Naruto can feel Sasuke’s agitated hand press between his shoulder blades. They practically fall forward together, stumbling into the back alley, hearts hammering at mach speeds.

The double doors leading to the store open just as the door to the outside clicks shut. Perplexed, the staff member peeks their head outside, looks around. Shrugs, then returns to their dreary night shift. 

The back alley is blissfully uninhabited once again. Naruto and Sasuke exhale heavily, relaxing from their crouched position behind the store’s massive dumpster for cover. “Phewph, that was a close one, hey?” Naruto laughs, holding onto the edge of the dumpster to pick himself up. 

Sasuke takes his shades off to bury his head in his hands. “That was the stupidest thing, I don’t know why I let you drag me into your pace,” he groans, sitting onto the pavement with his knees tucked into his chest.

“Aw, don’t say that, wasn’t that sorta exciting~” Naruto hums, stretching his arms over his head. His heart is still hammering in his chest from the adrenaline, a rush he hasn’t felt in a while. Talk about breaking and exiting. 

“No,”

Heh. Lies.

Sasuke sighs heavily, then releases his face and looks up at Naruto directly. “Hey, uh…?”

“Naruto! Uzumaki Naruto~”

“Naruto. Let me borrow your phone.”

“Oh, sure,” Not that Naruto cares, but of  _ course  _ this guy won’t use honourifics.

While Sasuke calls himself a cab, Naruto bides his time, warming his hands in his jacket pockets, jingling his apartment keys restlessly. 

The call is brief. “Thanks,” Sasuke holds the phone out afterwards. This is the most polite thing Naruto’s heard out of his mouth so far. “They’ll be here soon...how are you planning on getting home?”

“Hm?”

“That guy in the convenience store...weren’t you carpooling?”

“Oh yeah, but it’s no problem,” Naruto waves off the concern. “I can walk, it’s not that far.” About twenty minutes, thirty if he encounters a stray cat to pet. And he’s all riled up, so a walk to burn off the excess energy is probably a good idea.

“Here,” after reclaiming his phone, he extends his other hand down towards Sasuke, who doesn’t move right away. Just wordlessly looks down at Naruto’s hand for an overly long pause.

The corner of Naruto’s mouth twitches. What, is he gonna slap his hand away and say “ _ I dOn’T nEeD yOuR hElP I cAn GeT uP oN mY oWn _ ” ? That’s been the brand of their interactions so far. 

But before Naruto can even think of retracting his offer, Sasuke hesitantly presses fingertips against Naruto’s palm. His skin is soft and cold to the touch. Naruto instinctively squeezes his hand, but he’s so surprised by the acceptance of his offer that he launches into a pause of his own.

“...Are you just going to stand there and hold my hand?”

“Oh shut up,” warmth rushes to Naruto’s cheeks, and in his embarrassment, he yanks up harder than intended. Sasuke staggers forward from the inertia and he’s forced to grab Naruto’s shoulder to stabilize himself. Their faces mere centimeters apart.

CLOSE ! CLOSE! CLOSE-- hm? 

Naruto thought he’d imagined it back in the store, but there really is some kind of sheen catching light along Sasuke’s cheekbone. “Hey, you’ve got something on your face” he frowns, raising his hand to press his fingers lightly against Sasuke’s cheek. What is that, glitter?

Sasuke’s red eyes widen, but Naruto is too preoccupied to notice.

“AH!” he steps back, hands raised in dismay. Not only did he smear that shit worse across Sasuke’s face, now it’s all over his own fingers too. 

“What the hell is this;;;” he laments, and continues to fuck up by trying to wipe his fingertips on the sleeve of his jacket, which is now shimmering under the overhead street lamp.

“UGH….”

Sasuke quickly turns his head to the side, shoulders visibly tensing up. 

“Pff..”

“Are you laughing at me?!”

“Idiot.” Sasuke inhales sharply before turning back, resetting his face to its stoic default expression, although he’s barely keeping it together; the ghost of a smile cracks through his otherwise doll-like demeanour.

_ Huh? _

A flood of light washes over them, silhouetting Sasuke’s form, and the sound of tires heralds the arrival of his ride. Sasuke releases Naruto’s shoulders, sliding his carmine gaze away with an emotion Naruto wishfully perceives as reluctance. 

“Hey!” he blurts out as Sasuke climbs into the passenger seat of the cab. “The bar I work at, it’s called the Hole--sorry, the Foxhole Cabaret, right over there, two streets over. Next Friday at 10 my band is gonna be playin’, you should come watch!!”

Sasuke tilts his head to the side, casts one last, inexplicable look at Naruto. Mouths “i-di-ot”, and slams the car door shut. Naruto watches the cab drive down the rest of the back alley. As soon as the tail lights disappear, he crouches back down to the ground.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” 

His heart is beating so much harder than when they’d broken out of the store. Is he some kind of fucking tsundere? Cute? The gap is too damn cute? Yet still so infuriatingly rude?? And Naruto still isn’t clear if he’s ever going to meet Uchiha Sasuke ever again.

…..

…

.

“AH SHIT! HE HAS MY HAT.”

*******

Sasuke  _ finally _ makes it home. Plugs his poor, thirsty phone into a charger, then takes off the baseball cap and flings it next to the t-shirt, which he has sitting on his couch. A small, yet growing pile of belongings he’s unwillingly acquiring from Uzumaki Naruto.

He checks his phone briefly.

A missed call and four texts from Suigetsu that just read: 

> LoL. 

> Dude. 

> You seriously ran away wwwww 

> I should put a collar on you next time smfh. 

There’s also a text from an unknown number that he deletes without checking, and an email from Kabuto about one of his contracts. A cryptic text from Orochimaru telling him to call first thing tomorrow morning (which Sasuke would be more stressed about but Orochimaru insists on ending his texts with a little snake emoji). 

He crawls into bed fully dressed, resting his forearm over his face. Fuck, that blonde idiot  _ really _ caught him up in his ridiculous pace. That was soooo fucking stupid. There had to have been a billion better ways of going about that.

And yet. Sasuke is loath to admit it, but in his own impulsive way, Naruto had simultaneously helped him out and crushed the tension that had been festering in him all night, without even really trying.

Sasuke rolls over, planting his face into his pillow. Probably getting glitter all over it..

What was that bar called? ‘The Hole’?? Pfff. He would work at a place with a dumb name like that. And what the hell, so he’s in some kind of band? Can someone so impulsive and with such bad listening skills really have the diligence to play an instrument?

Sasuke snorts into his pillow, half-laughing, half-groaning. Well...if he’s got nothing better to do next Friday….

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually planned on ending this chapter on a cryptic note, but it's actually so late (early??) and the rest of the chapter is ready to drop so I guess u guys are spared the cliffie :relieved_face: 
> 
> fun fact i thought of naruto being a singer from listening to the jinchuuriki counting song LOL
> 
> next chapter gonna have naruto on a STAGE i'm PUMPED 
> 
> anyways i love all of u who took time out of ur day to even glance at my silly lil story, psychically sending you my most powerful good vibes

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know if you like my saucy little self indulgent story, i'll die for u in battle


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